


Jack's Little House of Whorers

by LvL90BioticGod



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Biting, Bloodplay, Dubious Consent, F/M, I'll add more tags as the sin piles up, M/M, Multi, Overstimulation, Recreational Drug Use, Strangulation, and SMUT, like A LOT of crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LvL90BioticGod/pseuds/LvL90BioticGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rhys wins the one in a lifetime opportunity to be 'mentored' by Handsome Jack, he doesn't hesitate in strong arming his best friend to join him. Unfortunately for Vaughn, this leaves the two of them stuck living in their boss's condo. That is, Handsome Jack's condo. Shenanigans ensue. </p><p>Basically this is a crack fic where Rhys features as a live in slut while Vaughn begrudgingly is forced to clean up the mess. Yay!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TMI, Bro

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! This fic is going to feature several chapters with varying lengths. Also, there will be some POV hopping, so yay for that! For now, please enjoy Vaughn's suffering. I know I do <3

At first it was subtle. Rhys leaving a room with a flush against his cheek, the scent of sweat sticking to the leather of a couch, a questionable stain blemishing a dress shirt. It was just Vaughn’s imagination. Yeah, all in his head. I mean, it had to be, right? There was no way Rhys would hide something this big from him, not after everything they’d been through. Fucking your boss was one thing, but fucking Handsome Jack? Might as well be shoving a weed whacker up your asshole. Definitely a topic ranked in the “Top Ten Things You Tell Your Best Bro About.”

But then again, what did he know? For a good month Rhys had been skirting his gaze, choosing nights locked up in his room instead of their weekly drunken romps into town. Rhys wasn’t one to clam up under stress, oh no. He was a talker, someone who’s worries slipped out of loose lips and sank all the damn ships. That is, at least most of the time. Quiet Rhys was a dangerous Rhys. He was brooding over something, and it would take more than a few mixed drinks to get him to start blubbering about it. Or so Vaughn thought.

“I’m fucking Handsome Jack.”

Vaughn stared back blankly at Rhys, trying his damndest to not let his glass fall from his waning grip. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Rhys’s eyes shifted to meet Vaughn’s, gaze hazy and swimming in booze. “Well, he’s been fucking _me_ , to word it more accurately.” Rhys threw back his head before downing the rest of his drink, slamming the glass down hard against the bar with a ragged sigh. His eyes didn’t lift from his hands, a finger gingerly tracing around the glass’s rim. A long, drawn out whimper began to sing in the back of his throat. “He fucks me _sooo_ good, Vaughn.”

Vaughn’s head sunk into his hand, fingers dipping beneath his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. _Bad_ . _This is bad_. He soon followed Rhys’s example and took a final swig from his drink, blinking when he felt a dead weight thump against his shoulder.

“His hands…” Vaughn heard slurred into his ear, a sudden gust of heat bracing his cheek, the smell of cheap rum burning his nostrils. Rhys nestled in closer to the crook of Vaughn’s neck, humming sweetly as his eyes fluttered shut. “The things he does with his hands…”

“Oookay there, buddy.” Vaughn set his drink down on the bar before rising to his feet, dragging a limp Rhys with him. “Think it’s time we called it a night.”

Rhys slumped over Vaughn, his knees buckling from the awkwardness of being supported by a man a foot shorter than himself. Vaughn compensated with a firm grip, snaking an arm beneath his bro’s shoulder and tugging him back onto his feet. There was no use talking to him in this state, not unless he wanted to learn more about where Handsome Jack’s body had been than he cared to.

Rhys continued to babble into Vaughn’s ear as they made their way to the stairs, something about girth and hair which Vaughn prayed was an allusion to Jack’s arms. He decided to block out that image with some good ol’ manual labor, practically hauling Rhys on his back like a sack of potatoes up the stairs. It wasn’t until they were half way up when Vaughn heard the shuffling of bare feet, his view of the next step shielded by a pair bare legs. Rhys suddenly fell silent and something constricted in Vaughn’s chest. _Oh no._

“Rough night, huh?”

Jack’s voice was like knives grating against Vaughn’s ears, a chill racing down the back of his neck to the tail of his spine. He felt his heart pounding through his sweaty palms and his grip tightened on Rhys’s shirt. Of all the opportunities to be caught cornered by Handsome Jack, this was by far the worst time _and_ place.

“Y-yeah, you could say that,” Vaughn managed to croak, slowly lifting his gaze to meet his superior’s.

The first thing Vaughn saw was hair. Dark strands dusted Jack’s bare chest, charting a neat path all the way down past his navel. It was a trail all right, but it didn’t make Vaughn feel the slightest bit happy. Seeing your boss in nothing but his boxers rarely did. Eventually Vaughn’s eyes made contact with Jack’s face, the CEO’s lips curled into a wolfish grin as his eyes glinted with delight.

“You uh, need some help with Stringbean over there, beefcake?”

Vaughn’s jaw clenched, but he bared through it with a practiced smile. “No, it’s fine, uh, sir. I was just getting him to bed.”

Jack’s smile broadened, his feet slapping against the steps as he descended closer.

“Funny,” he crooned, looming over Vaughn just close enough to make it utterly unbearable. He extended his arm out past Vaughn to cup the side of Rhys’s face, the company man practically rolling into the touch. “I was just planning on doing the exact same thing.”

Vaughn shuddered. He could tell by the gleam in Jack’s eyes that his intentions with Rhys were far from virtuous, not that Rhys was behaving any better. The way he butted and groaned into Jack’s palm was more than just a little unsettling. Whatever he was rambling about drunkenly earlier, it was enough to have his friend twisted nice and snug around Jack’s finger. Vaughn winced as Rhys purred another particularly breathy moan in his ear. _Okay, maybe that wasn’t the most appropriate choice of words._

“I uh, I think I can manage it from here,” Vaughn finally spoke, Jack’s eyes shifting from Rhys to settle on the small man. The CEO’s smile waned, a brow arched as he looked Vaughn over. Vaughn squirmed under the gaze, quickly croaking out a sharp ‘sir!’ that had the man’s lips twisting into a grin.

“I’m sure you can, muscles,” he quipped, giving Vaughn’s shoulder a good smack. Vaughn teetered from the blow, frantically adjusting Rhys on his back so he didn’t go tumbling down the stairs. Jack snickered, brushing past the two with a brief look over his shoulder. “Be careful not to break him though, pumpkin. I need him in tiptop shape.”

Vaughn responded with another ‘yes sir’ for good measure, relaxing only when he no longer could hear Jack’s hefty footfalls. He exhaled.

_Fuck._

 Suddenly he realized exactly how sweaty he was, how his knees shook and his back ached. A mere three minute conversation with Handsome Jack was all it took to put him out of commission. Rhys grumbled another bout of inaudible nonsense into Vaughn’s ear, his friend’s head rolling to butt up against his own. Vaughn sighed.

“Yeah, buddy, I know,” he grumbled bitterly, readjusting his glasses as he continued his hike up the stairs.

" _He fucks you sooooo good_.”

 


	2. Narcotics Are a First Date Sort of Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys helps Jack get into the pharmaceutical business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before chapter one, chronologically.

Rhys’s boots clicked against Hyperion yellow tiles as he made his way up the stairs, hands fumbling with readjusting his tie. Sticky. Why did he feel so sticky? Rhys’s lips curled into a grimace as he wiped his sweaty palms against his dress pants, a low groan humming in the back of his throat. _Don't panic_ , he thought to himself. _Just breathe._ The company man forced himself to still, straightening his back as his eyes fluttered shut. He sucked in deeply, only to let out a choked wheeze that sent him into a coughing fit.

 _Nice._  
  
Honestly, it wasn’t like Rhys was overreacting. It wasn’t everyday that someone from middle management got called up to Handsome Jack’s office. That is, The Handsome Jack. His boss, and at the moment, eccentric billionaire roommate. About a million scenarios were already zipping around in Rhys’s skull, more than half of them far from pleasant. He’d heard the stories.  A promotion? A demotion? If so, hopefully not the permanent kind. _Oh god, was this about not putting enough sugar in Jack’s coffee this morning?_ He doubted he’d get a bullet in the brain for something _that_ trivial, but then again, he’d seen Jack kill for less. Rhys felt his heart stumble over itself, another swell of anxiety rising from the pit of his stomach. " _Four_ sugars!" he cursed under his breath, smacking himself upside the head. "Four!" _Smack._ "Fucking!" _Smack_. "Sugars!" _Smack._

It didn’t take long until Rhys found himself outside Jack's office door, eyeing it as if were the actual gates to hell. The company man huffed, running a slick palm through his hair one last time. It was now or never. Just as Rhys's hand was making it's way to rap against the door, it flew open, revealing a very handsome yet positively terrifying CEO. The devil himself.

Jack’s brow furrowed at the sight of Rhys, his mismatched gaze scanning his employee from head to toe. “Sheesh, kiddo, you do some laps around the condo before making your way up here?” he jeered. A thick brow arched in amusement. “You’re freakin’ _drenched._ ”

Rhys’s lips parted to speak, though nothing aside from shaky breath managed to escape.

Jack rolled his eyes. “You know what? Nevermind. Just get your sweaty tush in here and grab a seat.”

Rhys obeyed, scuttling past Jack the best he could without meeting the man’s gaze. Honestly, he was surprised he’d even made it this far. Rhys glued himself to the leather armchair sitting across from Jack’s desk, gripping the seat’s armrests while his eyes followed the CEO. Jack sauntered to the front of the desk, swiping a stress ball from it’s surface before turning to face Rhys. He tossed the ball carelessly in his hand, hips shifting back to rest against the desk. A smirk slinked across his lips

“So, Rhysie,” Jack purred, the company man’s name uttered with a sickening sweetness that made Rhys’s stomach churn. “How have you been enjoying Casa de la Jack?”

Rhys stiffened at the question, astounded that Jack wanted to hear his opinion on anything. He had only been living in with his boss for a week, a good portion of said week spent hauling his and Vaughn’s crap into their new rooms. The other half consisted of Rhys trying not to piss himself as he made Jack’s morning coffee. Still, though, he had to tell Jack _something_.

“It’s been great, sir,” Rhys said, his voice cracking on the final word. The company man rubbed his collar nervously, a shaky smile forming on his lips. He cleared his throat. “I’m very excited to be here and I hope to learn a lot.”

Jack tilted his head as Rhys spoke, his eyes practically boring holes into him. Rhys’s fingers rapped against the armrest anxiously, the smile crumbling from his lips. _Did he say too much? Too little?_ Jack was virtually impossible to read.

“Great to hear, kiddo!” he boomed, causing Rhys to jump in his seat. The CEO’s grin broadened at the sight. “That's the kind of go-getter attitude we need around here!” Jack stood upright, catching the stress ball with a firm squeeze. He then tossed it at Rhys, the foam ball fumbling in the company man’s hands before finally being caught in his grip. Jack snickered.

“Nice catch there, All-Star,” he quipped, turning around to dig for something in his desk. “Go ahead and give that a couple of squeezes for me.”

Rhys did as he was told, rolling the ball into his cyber hand. He wanted to believe Jack gave it to him after noticing his nerves, though that didn't sound very Jack-like at all. The stress ball was a bright Hyperion yellow, a dark ‘H’ printed proudly at its center. Rhys curled his fingers over the logo, applying and releasing pressure. He let out a shaky breath, as if he’d been keeping it in since he walked into the room. Even if that hadn’t been Jack’s intention, it worked all the same.

“Nah ah ah.” Jack’s voice suddenly chimed in Rhys’s ears. His head whipped up to find Jack peeking up from over the desk, the CEO’s fingers snapping as he gestured at his left arm. “In the fleshy one, if you will, pumpkin.”

Rhys’s brow furrowed slightly at the request, but still, he complied. If all Jack wanted to do was see him squeeze some balls in exchange for living like a king, then hell yeah, he’d do it. Rhys played with the stress ball in his left hand, eyeing Jack curiously while he continued to rummage through the drawers of his desk. Bitter curses grumbled out from the CEO as he shoved things aside that weren’t the golden ticket he was looking for, papers fluttering through the air followed by the occasional gadget.

“Ah ha! ”Jack suddenly snapped upright, snatching something from inside a drawer and smacking it against the desk proudly.

Rhys leaned forward in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he tried to get a better look at the object. His ECHOeye sprung to life, scanning something that appeared to be a healing hypo. Or at least, the vial was. The liquid inside glistened a bright violet, shimmers of crimson gleaming within it each time Jack rattled the desk.

 _Huh_.

Rhys began to scour the ECHOnet for info on the strange substance. Multiple red flags featuring ‘top secret’ research in R&D began to crowd his vision, keywords like “experimental” and “highly dangerous” turning up around every corner. He attempted to dig deeper. Unfortunately his credentials, or lack thereof, kept him tightly locked out. Rhys huffed. _So much for that._

Rhys was torn away from his top secret info dump by the sound of a final drawer slamming shut, Jack’s gaze meeting his own. The company man slinked back into his chair, the light from his ECHOeye dimming. He cracked a sheepish grin, nervous laughter tumbling past his lips. _Sorry?_

“Curious, eh cupcake?” Jack murmured, eyebrows waggling as his fingers snaked around the hypo. He fumbled with the vial a bit in his hands as he made his way back towards the front of the desk, his eyes gleaming with a fiendish delight. “Me _too_.”

Rhys fidgeted in his seat. _Okay, that wasn’t the least bit unsettling_. “So, uh,” he cleared his throat, peering up at Jack. “What is it, exactly?”

“This--” Jack held up the vial for Rhys to see, shaking it’s insides to form a swirl of vibrant purples and reds. “This is a little something I’ve had my guys in the lab working on for a while now. From what I’ve heard, it’s sick as _fuck_ .” Jack chuckled, tapping a ringed pointer finger against the glass.  “Not sure if that means it’s awesome or if it’ll _make_ you sick as fuck, but hey!” Jack’s eyes flickered to Rhys, a viperous grin slithering across his lips. “Let’s find out.”

Rhys blinked, brow furrowing. “W-wait, what? Since when did Hyperion start making recreational drugs? Aren't we uh, I don't know…” The company man’s gaze darted around the room as he searched for the words. “More of a tech--er--weapons manufacturer?” A flush of heat colored the man’s cheeks. He was too embarrassed to admit he didn’t actually know, himself.

Jack’s half-lidded gaze was dull as he stared at the company man, the hypo weaving back and forth from between his fingers. He clicked his tongue.

“Listen, kiddo,” he began, pushing himself off the desk before sauntering towards Rhys. “Hyperion is whatever I goddamn want it to be. And you know what? Right now I want it to be a name that every junkie itches to have coursing through their veins across the next six galaxies.” Rhys stiffened as Handsome Jack stalked around him, eyes following the man’s voice. “Besides, it’s big money. Have you tried Maliwan’s crap?” The CEO rumbled with laughter, bobbing his head to the side as his tongue skirted over his upper lip. “It’s like shooting freakin’ _fire_.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Rhys’s lips, his grip tightening around the stress ball. No, he hadn’t tried ‘Maliwan’s crap’...because of course not. The only ‘trip’ he’d ever been on was passing out from taking one too many painkillers after the ECHOeye surgery. Okay, and maybe _one_ hit from a joint during a high school party. But still.

Rhys was yanked from his thoughts by an insistent tug at his pants. The company man blinked to find Jack’s hands fumbling with his belt buckle. He constricted the ball tighter in his palm, a swell of heat flushing his cheeks. “Uhhhhh…”

“Don’t flatter yourself, cupcake,” Jack muttered, deft fingers working the leather out from around his employee’s waist. He lassoed the belt around his own forearm, the buckle rattling when he shook it for Rhys to see. “I’m just using it for the tourniquet.”

Rhys swallowed, allowing himself the sweetness of breath. _Right, yeah, of course_. A beat passed, and the company man blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jack huffed with an exasperated sigh. “Tour-” Rhys felt a rough grip at his arm, and his sleeve was yanked up to his shoulder. “Ni-” The belt suddenly snaked around Rhys’s bicep, buckle clinking softly against Jack’s working hands. “- _Quet._ ” Rhys yelped as Jack pulled the leather taught, the stress ball flying from his open palm. The CEO leaned in close before landing a couple of good smacks against Rhys’s cheek. “Learn to pay attention, dumb-dumb.”

The company man’s face remained stiff from shock, his eyes flitting back towards the hypo. Suddenly it all made sense, though the revelation didn’t aid in making Rhys’s situation any easier to swallow.  He shifted his gaze back to Jack’s. “You’re going to inject _me_ with _that_?”

Jack responded with the slow, condescending bob of his head. “Well, duh.” The CEO’s lips cracked into a grin, his laughter grating against Rhys’s ears. “Not very quick on the draw, are you, kiddo?”

No, he wasn't.

Rhys tensed as he watched Jack fish around for something in his coat pocket. Suddenly, he wished he hadn't tossed his stress ball half way across the room. A breath hitched in his throat when his eye caught the gleam of metal. His fears were confirmed when Jack removed what had to be the largest needle Rhys had ever seen. Jack waggled his brows at Rhys, jabbing the syringe into the hypo and filling it with the toxic substance.

“You excited, pumpkin?” he cooed, removing the needle before giving it a good flick. “I know I am.”

Honestly, Rhys was about ready to blow chunks right then and there. Good thing he skipped breakfast.

“I uh, I’m not, I don't do very well around needles, Jack,” he stuttered, trying his damndest to avoid the ominous glinting in his peripheral. He never knew looking Handsome Jack in the eye could be so easy.

A low hum sung in the back of Jack’s throat, lips curling as he slipped the hypo into his coat pocket. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” he purred, bringing a large thumb to graze along the inside of Rhys’s forearm. He tapped the plunger of the syringe, a thin squirt of violet leaping from the tip. “Lucky for you, I happen to be _very_ good around needles.”

Rhys didn’t know what made him more uncomfortable: the syringe filled with a drug powerful enough to make Hyperion scientists second guess their intentions, or the fact that Handsome Jack was literally inches away and _stroking him_ .  What he _did_ know was that the thought of a demotion was getting more and more appealing by the minute.

Jack shifted closer as he settled down to work. His thumb padded gently up and down Rhys’s forearm, eyes sharp and alert, deftly searching for a promising site. Rhys watched silently, entranced by the stillness of Jack’s features. He was considerably less terrifying without his trademark Hyperion grin.

After a while Rhys began to fidget a bit in his seat, trying to ease the numbing sensation forming in his left arm. As much as he wasn’t looking forward to becoming Jack’s personal pincushion, his boss was taking an awfully long time.

“How long does this usually take?” Rhys prodded, brow arching as Jack’s lips twisted into a scowl. “A minute? An hour? A-”

“ _A second,”_ Jack retorted, a low growl hissing past his lips. Frustrated, the CEO brought his palm to rap against Rhys’s arm. “Your veins are freakin’ microscopic, you know that?”

Rhys tensed against the blows slightly, but soon found himself more irritated than frightened. _Good with needles, huh?_ He rolled his eyes, head tilting to rest against his cyber arm while his gaze danced around the room. Maybe if he was lucky enough Jack would just give up and he coul-

“Ow!” Rhys suddenly yelped, head snapping back to find Jack’s thumb replaced by the business end of the syringe. His skin stretched sickly around the needle’s head, it’s freakish size amplified in comparison to Rhys’s forearm. The sight alone was enough to make the company man’s vision blur, his stomach curling into a tight knot.

“Settle down, princess,” Jack lectured, eyes unwavering from the needle. “It’s just the tip.”

Rhys turned away as Jack pulled back on the plunger, none too keen on seeing anymore of this horror show. _Programmer_. He was a _programmer_ , not a fucking lab rat. What kind of sick joke was this ‘mentorship’ anyway?

“Goddammit.” The curse was like a fire alarm going off against Rhys’s ears.

“What? What happened?”

“I missed.”

“You _what?"_

“I _missed_ ,” Jack snarled, plucking the needle none too gently from Rhys’s arm. He dangled the syringe in front of the company man’s face. “See? No blood.”

Rhys rubbed the injection site with a tender hand, whimpering softly as he eyed the liquid sloshing within the barrell. He pouted. “Does that mean you have to- _ah!_ ”

Suddenly Rhys’s hand was batted away, a prick of pain coursing up his arm. Rhys blinked as he sucked in a sharp breath. Did, did Jack just _stab_ him? Rhys’s head swayed sluggishly as his vision danced towards his forearm. Another wave of nausea churned the pit of his stomach.

Yup, he stabbed him.

Sucking down on a ragged breath, Rhys watched Jack tug on the plunger. Again, no blood. He exhaled.

“Could you at least _warn_ me?” Rhys heaved, swallowing and arching his head away from the sight once more. “I really, _really_ don’t like needles.”

Rhys’s gaze was suddenly snapped back to Jack’s by a rough tug at his jaw, the CEO silencing his whimpers with a hooded glare. “And I really, _really_ don’t like your attitude, kiddo,” he rumbled lowly, teeth clenched and grip tightening to the point of pain. Rhys felt the syringe slip from his skin, Jack’s hand gliding to snake around his throat. A smirk danced across the CEO’s lips. “Time to get creative.”

Rhys knew far better than to trust that expression. He squirmed underneath Jack’s hold, his cybernetic fingers curling tight around the man’s wrist. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, just-” Rhys’s breath hitched as he ogled the syringe slowly advancing towards his face. A high pitched whine sung in the back of his throat, eyes on the brink of tears.  He tightened his grip around Jack. “Please, _please_ don’t kill me!” he sobbed.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Quit pissing yourself, princess. I ain’t trying to.” The CEO tugged his arm away, his hand whipping back to land a smack across Rhys’s cheek. The company man’s head reeled from the blow, Jack’s hand catching Rhys by the chin and arching it to the side. “But I just _might_ if you keep on squirming like that.”

The slap seemed to knock Rhys back into his senses. He stilled himself in Jack’s hold, sniffling quietly. “Then w-what are you doing, exactly?”

“Getting a closer look at your jugular, dumb-dumb.” The company man shuddered as Jack ran a finger down his throat, the man’s rough, calloused skin catching against Rhys’s smooth. The CEO hummed in approval. “So thick and prominent,” he murmured, shifting so his thumb could pad against the vein. Rhys saw the syringe gleam from the corner of his eye. “Just begging for me to-”

“Oh no no no no no,” Rhys wheezed, tilting his head so he could meet Jack’s gaze. Much to his surprise, Jack backed off, standing upright as his eyes hooded beneath an arched brow. The company man ran his fingers along his throat before clearing it. "There _has_ to be another way.”

Jack paused, his tongue skirting over his upper lip. Mismatched eyes danced around the room. “ _Well,_ ” he crooned, bringing his free hand to brush against Rhys’s knee. Rhys watched in horror as the CEO inched closer, Jack’s fingers travelling higher and higher up his leg. Their eyes met, and Rhys felt a tight squeeze at his thigh. “There is _one_ other place.”

_Oh god._

The sticky feeling was back again at full force, and Rhys found himself tugging at his collar. As awful as ‘plan A’ was, ’plan B’ honestly didn’t seem much better. He never would have even considered it as an option. Should have paid more attention in biology, he supposed.

“So what’s it gonna be, pumpkin?” Jack prodded, his tone dripping with a bitter sweetness. “Your pretty jugular-,” Jack’s gaze drifted along Rhys’s throat, his lips slinking into a smirk as he kneaded small circles into the company man’s pants,“-or your naughty femoral?”

Rhys shifted under Jack’s touch as he debated between the two evils. He sighed. _Fuck it._

“F-femoral.”

Jack’s eyes lit up like diamonds in the sun, his hand slinking away from Rhys’s thigh to smack against the company man’s shoulder. “Thatta boy, kiddo! Now let's get this show on the road, shall we?”

Rhys took in a breath as his gaze dropped to his lap, fingers looping under his waistband. He could do this, right? Yeah, sure he could. I mean, he was only stripping from the waist down. In front of Handsome Jack. Who was planning to inject god knows what into his groin. Yup, just your average Monday morning working for the Hyperion corporation. Yes siree.

“Sooo you gonna drop your pants or are you waiting for me to do the honors?”

Rhys blinked up at Jack, a chill running down his spine at the mere thought of the man’s hands snaked beneath his drawers. He cleared his throat. “Yeah-er-no? I’m, I’m working on it.”

Rhys turned his attention back towards his task. It was probably best not to keep Jack waiting. Swallowing, Rhys shimmied in his seat as his hands tugged at his waist. After a bit of maneuvering his pants slinked down easy enough, though his boxers remained caught snug around his thighs. Rhys huffed as he mustered up the courage to follow through with the big reveal. _You can do it_ , he assured himself. _You can do it._

Eventually Rhys curled his quivering fingers around his drawers, tugging them down past his knees in one fell swoop. A chill ghosted across his bare skin and he shivered. _See?_ He told himself. A nervous laugh tumbled past the company man’s lips.  _You did it._

It required nearly every fiber in Rhys’s being to keep from curling up under his boss’s gaze. Jack, on the other hand, was taking his employee’s new appearance in stride. “You manscape, huh?” the CEO quipped, chuckling as he crouched in front of Rhys. “Freakin’ _knew it_.”

Positively mortified, Rhys’s eyes darted anywhere but his lap. He nearly yelped when he felt a tap against his knee, turning to find Jack peering up at him with an arched brow. “I need a little wiggle room down here, cupcake” he chided. “Go ahead and spread em’ for me.”

Rhys’s face felt like a furnace. He could recall many a wet dream that began with this sight of Handsome Jack situated between his legs, the only difference being that this was an absolute nightmare. Still, though, he wobbled them open for Jack, the CEO nudging in closer with syringe in hand.

_Oooh boy._

Rhys tried his best not to fidget, he really did. His grip against the chair’s armrests was vice like, eyes glued straight ahead. Jack seemed to work without a care, humming cheerfully to himself as his thumb padded Rhys’s inner thigh. “ _Ooh, Rhysie_ ,” he cooed, eyes flitting up to meet the company man’s. “You’re about as soft as a _kitten_.”

“J-just stab me, okay? Please?” Death by experimental narcotics was starting to sound like a fucking _dream_.

“Oh, don’t pretend you aren’t positively loving this right now, pumpkin” Jack retorted, flicking aside Rhys’s growing stiffy. An audible gasp sprung from the company man’s lips, legs twitching violently around Jack’s shoulders. The CEO cackled.

Jack thumbed at him for a few minutes longer until he grew bored, lining up the needle against Rhys’s skin. Jack’s gaze darted to meet his own and Rhys swallowed. Hard.

“Deep breaths, kiddo,” Jack murmured, cracking a grin. “I can promise you, this time, I won’t miss.”

Rhys was willing to take his word on it. Silently, he obeyed, shutting his eyes and sucking in a breath. _Here we go._

The pain was like fire. Rhys’s exhale hissed through clenched teeth, the chair groaning under his cyber arm’s grip. He could feel Jack pulling back on the plunger, the CEO’s breath flushing against his thigh. “There’s the money shot,” he sung, sinking the needle deeper into Rhys’s flesh, causing a whine to sputter past the company man’s lips. Rhys arched his head away as Jack injected the drug into the vein. _Torture. This was torture._

Before he knew it the needle had slipped out from Rhys’s skin, replaced by a tender thumb grazing the wound. “See?” Jack rapped against Rhys’s thigh before practically springing to his feet. “ _Great_ with needles.”

Rhys’s eyes shot open, whimpering as he brought a hand to graze his delicate flesh. So much for a bedside manner. The company man allowed himself a moment to catch his breath before blinking up at Jack. “So how long until this stuff kicks in?”

“Ohhh,” Jack peered down lazily at his watch, shifting his weight to one side. “I’d say about any second now, pumpkin.” The CEO chuckled, his shoulders bobbing with every breath. “From what I’ve read, that's some potent shit right there!”

Rhys felt something twist in his gut as he leaned back against the seat. It was hard to tell if it was the drug or his nerves, honestly. Jack hadn’t really enlightened him on the possible side effects.

“How will I knoohh..”

Rhys’s head thunked back against the seat with a dull thud, his mouth hanging open around his last uttered vowel. The rush seemed to crash against his skull again and again and again, like the 10ft waves of a storm. He felt the urge to vomit rise in the back of his throat.

“Rhys?"

A voice echoed far in the back of the company man’s mind. Suddenly there were hands against his face, fingers tugging below his eyelids as his head rolled. Again, his name rang into the vastness of his high, and again, he ignored it.  Warmth began to fade from his cheeks, his sense of touch ebbing. It was as if someone had applied a film over his body, a blanket. Rhys didn’t feel his eyes roll back into his skull, nor the drool that driveled from the corner of his mouth. Rhys felt nothing. Nothing but the black void before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise porn in the next chapter, kiddos! Don't you fret!


	3. Good Employees Are Hard To Come By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Rhys go on a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H-holy fuck guys, this chapter took me forever to write. Did not anticipate it being an over 6k word monster. Anyways, enjoy the porn~

At first? Well, at first it was freakin’ _hilarious._ Rhys’s head thunked back against the chair like a rock. A very dumb, hollow sounding rock. No joke, Jack swore he heard the kid’s eyes rolling around inside of his skull like marbles in a bowl. The CEO snickered. Anyways…

Saliva dribbled down from Rhys’s gaped open piehole. His hips spasmed and twitched, spittle from his chin dousing his collar with each violent quiver. Absolutely _zero_ motor control. His ECHOeye was going absolutely nuts too, flickering sporadically on and off like a--uh--a _really_ shitty light show. Like, one so bad you’d get up after five minutes to leave. Or to strangle the technicians. Super sucky. Yeah, whatever Rhys was experiencing, it looked super sucky.

That’s when Jack caught sight of Rhys’s stiffy and just about _lost it_ . It bounced against the kid’s thigh as he spasmed, making a sick, wet slapping sound each time it smacked against his leg. Tears brimmed at Jack’s eyes as he pointed at the dancing dong, cackling hysterically and gripping his side. “Holy crap,” he wheezed, struggling to catch his breath. _Why hadn’t he thought to film this shit?_

Eventually Jack attempted to compose himself. He mosied over towards Rhys, struggling to contain the maniacal bouts of laughter that rose with every buck of the kid’s groin. Jack crouched down in front of his employee before taking his face into his hands. “Woah there, cowboy,” he chuckled, bringing a thumb to tug at Rhys’s lower lid. “I know this stuff has quite a kick, but--uh--”

Jack fell silent as Rhys’s body went still, an abrupt ending to his half chub’s little dance number. The company man’s head rolled listlessly within his boss’s grip. Apprehension furrowed at Jack’s brow.

“Rhys?”

The CEO rapped his hand against the kid’s cheek. No wince, no whimper, no nothing.

“ _Shit._ ”

Immediately, Jack sprung to his feet. He turned deftly on his heel as he paced towards his desk, lips twitching into a scowl. _Great. Just_ freakin’ _great_. He ripped through drawers in a bitter rage, hissing out curses as useless reports began fluttering through the air.

Seriously, how was he supposed to market this crap if all it did was make you do the jig for five seconds before knocking you into a _fuckin’_ coma? He was making drugs for frat parties, not for goddamn death row. Jack’s hands ached with the need to be snaked around a man’s jugular, or rather, a whole team of them. A team that specifically fucked around in R &D. No, wait, scratch that.

_Inject._

He’d inject their own shit right up their incompetent assholes, a _real_ effective enema, and watch them sputter around for a bit like retards. Oh, and _then_ he’d bash their brains in. With their stupid ‘health and safety regulations’ clipboard. Jack always hated having that thing pushed at him. _Yeah_ , he sneered to himself, tossing aside another paperweight. _Give them a taste of their own medicine_ . _Literally_.

“ _There_ you are.” Jack snagged the EpiPen from a drawer before bringing it to his teeth, ripping off the cap and striding back towards Rhys.

_Time to be a hero._

Jack tugged Rhys’s tie from his collar and tossed it to the floor. Buttons popped and flew in all directions as he ripped open the kid’s shirt, the CEO’s fingers tracing over the sweet spot between the ribs. This wouldn’t be the first time Jack brought someone back from the edge of a drug induced coma. Jack rolled his eyes, recalling a _very_ specific memory. He _told_ Nisha not to snort that last line.

“Alright, sleeping beauty,” Jack purred, securing a grip on the company man’s shoulder. “Wakey--” the CEO brought his fist back, needle glinting in his grip. “-- _WAKEY_!”

The EpiPen struck right on the money, because of course it did. Afterall, this was Handsome Jack we were talking about.

The company man shot upright as fast as a bullet. His eyes nearly lept from their sockets, bulging with mouth agape as he sucked in a needy breath of air. Jack cackled, throwing his arms up as he tilted his head back to gaze at the ceiling. He shook, adding a taste of dramatic flair to his performance. “IT’S ALIIIIVE!”

Rhys blinked rapidly, head tilting down to notice the EpiPen jabbed directly below his clavicle. “W-what, what the hell happened?” he sputtered, watching in horror as the needle bobbed with every sharp inhale.

“You nodded off during class, kiddo.” Jack snaked his grip around the EpiPen, tugging it out of Rhys before chucking it over his shoulder. “But now nap time’s over.”

Rhys cringed as the pen clattered against the floor, hands bracing his ears. Jack quirked a brow. “Today you’re being graded on participation, remember?” The CEO leaned forward to cup Rhys’s face, the kid’s eyes ogling Jack as if he were a rakk about to dive bomb him. His right eye wasn’t even brown anymore, just a giant pool of black gawking back at him. _Oh yeah._ Jack’s lips split into a grin. _He was_ definitely _high._

“Now tell me what you’re feeling, pumpkin,” he cooed, arching Rhys’s head from side to side. The kid’s face felt like putty in his hands. “If you’re good, Professor Jack just might have a shiny gold star for you.”

Rhys’s lips parted, and Jack waited with anticipation. His eyes were hooded slightly now that the adrenaline was wearing off, his tongue teasing against his upper lip as he struggled to form the words. Jack felt the kid lean further into his hands, the corner of his lips quirking into a sloppy grin. The CEO’s brow furrowed with impatience.

“C’mon, princess, just spit it out, would ya? You feel good, right?” Cuz, wow, it sure looked like he did.

Jack’s lips twisted into a grimace as a thin line of drool dribbled from his employee’s lips, causing him to rip his hands away. Rhys’s head bobbed forward from the sudden lack of support, chin plopping against his bare chest. Jack rolled his eyes, receiving nothing more than the giddy laughter that bubbled out from the kid’s useless lips. _Great._

Jack sighed, hand slinking into his coat pocket to remove the hypo. He fumbled with the vial a bit in his hands, eyes occasionally flitting up to glance at Rhys. A soft, rhythmic clink chimed through the office as his ring tapped against the glass. _Maybe if he just lowered the dosage…_

Rhys continued to snigger pathetically as Jack unfastened the belt from his left arm. He probably damaged the kid’s tissue a bit by leaving it on for so long, but it’s not like he actually _gave a shit_. He then paced towards his desk and shedded his blazer, tossing it over the back of his chair. His hips thumped against the edge of his desk as he worked his left sleeve up to his shoulder.

“How you holding up, Rhysie?” Jack hummed, glancing up to find that Rhys had slipped considerably lower in his seat. Much to his surprise, the kid’s head actually bobbed up to meet his gaze at the call of his name. His lips parted into a clumsy grin, cybernetic hand rising from the armrest to curl into what Jack presumed was supposed to be a thumbs up. He snorted. “Glad to hear it, kiddo.”

Jack grunted as he fastened the belt tight around his bicep, a prepared syringe awaiting him on the edge of the desk. He thumbed at his favorite vein a bit before taking it in hand, his eyes flickering towards Rhys one final time. The same stupid ass smile still clung to the kid’s lips. Jack’s eyes rolled. “If this shit kills me, I swear to god...”

Jack slipped the needle beneath his skin with a slight wince. He exhaled as he pulled back on the plunger, grinning at the crimson that pooled within the barrel. Rhys groaned from his seat.

“Yeah yeah, cheers, buddy,” he mumbled, the drug flooding his vein with the press of his thumb.

Jack was quick with releasing the belt from around his arm, knowing the high could hit him any minute. _Tissue damage? Nooo thank you_ . Once that was out of the way, the CEO shifted to rest his hands at the desk’s edge, folding his leg leisurely over the other. _Yup._ Jack exhaled. _Aaany minute now._

Okay, so Jack was a patient guy. It’s not like he became CEO of Hyperion overnight. Well, actually, he guessed he _technically_ did, but how awesome was that? He should have gotten a medal, or a trophy or...something. Anyways, point being Jack was a patient guy, and time seemed to be _really_ dragging its ass. Jack’s eyes flicked to his wrist, eyes glazing over his watch listlessly. Maybe the dosage was too low? It was sort of a joke to compare his tolerance to stringbean over there. Like just, _look_ at him.

Jack shifted his gaze towards Rhys, his brow leaping abruptly to a sharp peak. _What the balls..._

It was the kid’s shlong. It was--uh-- _well_ \--it was rock _freakin’_ solid. Not like the chub he was sporting earlier, oh no no no. This was an absolute _rager_ . The monster was propped up against Rhys’s left thigh, just sort of...chillin’ there. And it was--wow--was it _pulsating_ ? The kid groaned a little and a bead of precum oozed from the tip, dripping down to pool on Rhys’s thigh. _Holy shit._ Jack’s lips cracked into a broad grin, laughter rising from his throat. _It freakin’ winked at him._

 _This shit was_ great _._

“Listen, kiddo, I know it’s hard not to get worked up when you’re in the presence of _the_ Handsome Jack, buuuuhh--”

_Well, fuck._

Jack’s lips faltered around his words as a swell of fuck-yeah goodness crashed against his skull. His knees buckled and he made a meager attempt to grip the desk, though his fingers just seemed to gloss over its surface before he tumbled face first to the floor. Jack groaned, unable to tell if it was caused by the ache of the fall or the awesomeness swimming around in his brain. _Both._ Another wave of pleasure surged through him, his fingers twitching against the cool, metallic floor. Jack’s lips quirked into a lazy grin. _Definitely both._

Jack was stirred from his high by the sound of sloppy laughter, the CEO propping his head up just enough to find Rhys had slipped even _further_ in his chair. The kid’s fleshy arm was extended out towards Jack, fingers curled loosely with the exception of his pointer finger. Cuz it was, you know, pointing. At Jack. Which was weird.

_The fuck’s so funny?_

Rhys’s body shook as another bout of giddy laughter sputtered past his lips, his head rolling to rest against his shoulder. Jack blinked, brow furrowing has he shifted against the floor, connecting the dots. A tight heat coiled itself around the pit of his stomach. The little shitstain was laughing at _him_.

“Y-ya think thash funny, huh?”Jack scowled at how utterly pathetic his lips were, but continued with his threat anyway. “I’ll gib ya somthin’ to laugh at…”

With murderous intent clutching fondly at Jack’s heart, he began to crawl. Or at least, something resembling a crawl. He used his forearms to drag himself forward, shimmying his hips against the floor when his legs refused to cooperate. He’d pause occasionally to suck in a breath and revel in the high for a bit, but it was never long until he was right back aboard the murder train.

That being said, Jack was moving at an incredibly slow and grueling pace, and Rhys was still acting like a complete _ass._

His god awful boots squeaked against the floor as he attempted to push himself away from Jack in--he didn’t know--fear? Jack hoped it was fear, though the shit eating grin he wore told a different story. The thing was the dipshit was still glued to the chair, so his efforts towards escaping amounted to nothing more than giving himself a second chin. A guttural laugh rose from Jack’s chest as he tugged himself forward. What an absolute _idiot_ . He couldn't wait to strangle the _fuck_ outta him.

 _Finally,_ Jack was at Rhys’s feet. It was time to initiate phase two of Operation Strangle the Stringbean: moving to a position where he could actually _reach_ the kid’s throat. Jack decided Rhys’s legs were a good place to start if anywhere. He reached for Dickface’s pants which were still pooled around his ankles, but fell short, gripping his ugly boot instead. Jack huffed. _Whatever._ The CEO tugged on the eyesore, finding out fast that ‘phase two’ was going to be a much larger pain in his dickhole than he initially thought. The struggle came to a head when instead of the boot pulling Jack _forward_ , Jack pulled the boot _off_ of Rhys _._

And that's when shit started getting weird.

Jack blinked, eyes gawking at the footwear in his hand as if it were a part of the kid’s body that wasn’t supposed to just, you know, _slip off_ . Cuz it wasnt. He was _pretty_ sure of that, at least.

“What the shi--”

_“My foot!”_

Jack’s gaze flickered up towards Rhys, the company man’s face mirroring the same look of confusion and horror as his own. A beat passed and the kid bristled, his befuddlement quickly flitting to outrage.

“Gi-give me back my foot!” he yelped, flailing a _very_ festive Hyperion issued sock in front of Jack’s face. “Right _now_!”

 _Woah, the_ fuck _this kid just say_ ? Jack knitted his brow, lips curling into a grimace. There was only _one_ person who could tell Handsome Jack what to do, and he was _pretty damn sure_ Rhys wasn’t rockin’ a cowgirl hat or a solid pair of tits. Hell, he might have gone easier on the kid if he at _least_ had the tits part down, but he didn’t. _So, fuckem’_.

“ _Fuck_ your foot,” the CEO snarled, baring his teeth as he chucked the wretched thing over his shoulder. Rhys’s eyes bulged as he watched the foot fly through the air, sucking in a sharp, mortified gasp. The company man’s brow furrowed and his eyes darted back towards Jack, demanding retribution, but his boss was no longer paying attention. Jack lunged for Rhys’s left leg, digging his nails into the remaining skag skinned monstrosity. “I’ll rip off _all_ your--” Foots? Foots was the word, right? Foots? Feets? Jack’s head swayed as another particularly _awesome_ wave of high crashed against it. _Ff--ffa--nah nah nah, foots was_ definitely _right_. “--foots!”

Jack had to say, the kid was not making the dismemberment easy. His foot thrashed wildly in Jack’s face, trying its damndest to kick him off as his bare, sweaty ass squeaked against the leather seat. Luckily for Jack, the pants around Rhys’s ankles constricted his movement considerably. The CEO cursed as he fumbled with his grip, eyes flickering to glance up at his employee. Honestly, he looked like a baby trying to kick off their soiled diaper. The kid’s glare hardened as he met Jack’s eyes, inaudible babble tumbling past his lips as he fussed. Jack snorted.

_Sounded like one, too._

A fiendish glint shimmered in Jack’s eyes as he felt the foot slip against Rhys’s heel. _Time for this skagpile to achieve flight_ . Gritting his teeth, he made one final tug. The eyesore flew off with a sharp ‘pop’, whizzing through the air like a hurled ‘nade before clattering against the floor. The CEO snickered, imagining how _freakin_ ’ cool it would have been if the thing had exploded. Rhys, on the other hand, looked far from thrilled.

“My...my foot…” he whimpered, his voice cracking on the final word. The kid’s eyes were on the brink of tears, lips trembling as he looked down to pout at Jack. He flailed his socks weakly as he let out another choked sob. “I-I don’t have any foots…”

Jack rolled his eyes, lips curling with disgust. As much as he found glee in the kid’s misfortune, he strongly prefered the yelpy, eye bulging Rhys over the crumpled wet tissue paper one.

“H-hey, don’t, don’t do that,” he muttered, landing a sloppy smack against Rhys’s knee. The CEO hooked his fingers around Rhys’s pants, slurring his words as he tugged himself forward. “I haven’t even shtrangled ya yet.”  

Rhys sniffled quietly as Jack began to crawl his way up his legs. His wobbly, freakishly long ass legs. Seriously, it was like scaling a goddamn mountain. Jack huffed as he propped his forearms up against Rhys’s knees, cursing the altitude for his breathing troubles. Yup, altitude. Definitely not from the experimental drug coursing through his veins. Oh, or the fact he hadn’t been to the gym in months. _Nope_.

Jack tugged himself forward to rest on his knees just as a heavenly rush surged through his body. A breathy gasp escaped his lips and he shuddered, his chin dipping forward to plop against his arms. The feeling was different from what he experienced earlier, strangely…physical. Pleasure bloomed up from the bottom of Jack’s stomach, hips twitching ever so slightly. He hummed against the warmth of Rhys’s skin as he shifted closer, his eyes fluttering shut. Maybe he’d rest for a bit, ride out the high.

 _Yeah_ , he thought to himself, grinding gentle circles against the kid’s legs. _Get his strength back._

As if shit-for-brains would ever grant him the fuckin’ pleasure.

Jack wasn’t too sure how long he was out for, though the stiffness in his back told him longer than he should have been. He woke to the sound of mucus churning in Rhys’s nostrils, his legs wobbling to-and-fro in an attempt to stir Jack from his sleep. He curled his nails into Rhys’s knees. _Well, mission accomplished, kiddo._

“Wh-why…”

Jack blinked up at Rhys, the kid’s sleeve wiping away the sweat, drool, and god knows what else from his face like a damn five-year-old. Oh, Jack couldn't _wait_ to hear what asinine bullshit would follow _that_ eloquent start of a sentence.  

“Why you gotta face…” he gestured in small, languid circles before bringing his fingers to his cheek. “...on your face?’

Jack knitted his brow. Wha--what? His mask? Jack assumed he was talking about his mask. A low hum rumbled past the CEO’s lips, a finger lifting to rub the sleep out from under his eyes. What a _stupid_ fucking question. His gaze narrowed at Rhys as he thought of a witty retort to bite back with. Unlike Peanutbrain, Jack was a goddamn intellectual. A beat passed and the CEO’s lips twitched into a smirk.

“ _You’re_ a face.”

 _Nailed it_.

The kid’s lips slumped into a pout as he glared down at Jack, a whine singing in the back of his throat. A throat that Jack’s hands should have been around what seemed like _hours_ ago. He’d been dicking around long enough. Even if Rhys didn’t know what he was paying for (or Jack, for that matter, now that he thought of it) he was still gonna make him goddamn pay. Jack shifted against Rhys’s knees, eyes flitting towards his lap. An exasperated sigh hissed past his lips.

_Speaking of dicks…_

Seriously, how was the kid still at full mast? Rhys’s dick was lounging against his left thigh, just close enough to make Jack squirm a bit on his knees. Not that dicks made him squeamish, of course. It was just... _this one_ . For some reason Jack just couldn't keep his eyes off of it. He felt like he was under some sort of spell or trance or...something. Some weird dick mind control. It’s that phenomenon when you see something so fuckin’ ridiculous that you can’t bring yourself to turn away, like socks with sandals or those people who dress up like animals and fuck each other. What were those things called? Furries? Yeah, Rhys’s dick was like a big ol’ furry, and for some reason all Jack wanted to do was _touch it_. See what would happen.

So, he did.

With the gentle curiosity of a child, Jack prodded a finger against the bright pink head. It felt like he expected: hot, fleshy, moist. What he _didn’t_ expect was Rhys’s reaction. The kid shuddered violently, sucking in a sharp gasp before flitting his eyes to Jack’s. Clearly he was just as surprised as he was. Jack quirked a brow. _What did we have here?_

Again, Jack brushed against the tip, this time lingering longer, pressing firmer. Rhys groaned, hips twitching beneath him once more as his fingers curled tight around the armrests of the chair. Jack felt something stir in his groin, lips twisting into a broad grin as hot, breathy laughter escaped him. _Now wasn’t this an interesting development…_

Jack lifted his head from his arms and snaked his hands around Rhys’s knees. The kid shifted under the grip, eyes widening in--excitement? Fear? Jack didn’t know, but the look suited him. He squeezed gently, palms grazing across _suspiciously_ soft skin as his hands rose higher and higher up Rhys’s legs. The kid’s throat bobbed when Jack reached his thighs, strong thumbs kneading circles against the flushed skin.

“You like that, huh?” Jack purred, running his nails against Rhys’s inner thighs.

Rhys’s breath hitched, the leather of the chair groaning under his grip. He whimpered softly, eyes hooded as he gazed back at Jack. He bobbed his head and Jack hummed in approval.

“You just might earn that gold star yet, pumpkin.”

It was too long since Jack had a chance to play like this. His Nisha was too scrappy, too fierce. She never let him tease her the way he wanted; obedient, broken, begging. But Rhys? Rhys was like putty, soft and malleable in Jack’s hands. The brush of a finger, the squeeze of a hand, the heat of a breath; Rhys was responsive to all of it. Jack dug his nails into the kid’s tender flesh, his groan of pleasure hitching into a choked sob.

 _Yes,_ Jack thought, pressing his hips harder and harder against Rhys’s legs. _Far too long._

He continued the pattern, raking his nails against Rhys’s skin before ghosting his palm over the tender area, sending shivers coursing up and down the kid’s body. Jack’s brow arched as Rhys’s left arm rose from the chair, trembling, pensive fingers extending out towards the CEO. He was ready to bat the hand away until it curled into his hair, massaging with sweet, small circles. A low hum sung from Jack’s chest, eyes fluttering shut as he dipped into the touch. He could work with this.

Jack slinked his hand up Rhys’s torso, hips grinding against the kid’s legs in rhythm with the fingers in his hair. His palm grazed over a soft belly and he let out a breathy giggle. The kid wasn't ripped like his buddy, that's for sure. Jack pinched at the small pocket of fat playfully, eliciting a shrill whimper from Rhys. He squirmed under the touch, fingers stilling in Jack’s hair as he attempted to pull his arm away. Jack clicked his tongue.

_Aww, you embarrassed, kiddo?_

Jack gripped the fleeing wrist and a shot of fear glimmered in Rhys’s eyes. _God_ , did that look suit him; wide eyed, lips parted, throat bobbing above a slick, sweaty collar. Jack thumbed over the vein beneath his grip, teeth running over his bottom lip as he watched Rhys quiver. He couldn't let the kid get too freaked out yet though, oh no. He was saving that for the finale.

Reassuring him with a lecherous grin, Jack took two fingers into his mouth lazily, eyes hooding as he gazed back at Rhys. The fear melted quickly back into hot embarrassment, Rhys’s cheeks flushing brightly as his lips parted to suck in a shaky breath. He felt the kid shudder beneath his grip on his thigh and he chuckled, teasing around the digits with a clever tongue. It was too bad for Rhys that this was far from a reward. Jack’s lips parted into a devilish grin, teeth clenching tight.

Rhys yelped as he attempted to yank his arm away, but Jack’s grip on his wrist was firm. He squeezed Rhys’s wrist to the point of bruising, allowing the familiar taste of copper to pool on his tongue. Slowly, he removed Rhys’s fingers from his mouth, his breath shaking around the high pooling in his skull. A thin strand of crimson stained saliva clung from his lower lip to the tips of the digits. “ _That’s_ for stopping,” he murmured, clumsily bringing Rhys’s hand to tease through his hair once more.

Like a trained dog, Rhys obeyed, nodding meekly before curling his bloodied fingers into Jack’s locks. Jack hummed sweetly. _Good boy._

With that, Jack’s hand continued to venture up Rhys’s chest. It was exciting, exploring a new body, discovering how to make it shudder and shake just the way he wanted. Even more so in this state. Every inch of skin felt like a mile, like he was working for it, earning it. Jack swore hours must have passed when his fingers finally brushed over a hardened nipple, his rough tips catching against it as easily as silk. A slight shudder fluttered beneath him as gentle fingers raked against his scalp. _Oh, a good boy indeed._ A grin slinked across Jack’s lips as he teased over the sensitive area once more, fingers rolling, pinching, _aching_ for an excuse to punish. Not that Jack needed one, of course. It was all just a part of the game.

Rhys’s breath hitched and he writhed from the touch, lips desperately trying to hold back moans as his grip tightened in Jack’s hair. It was cute, really, how he was trying to stay quiet, as if to maintain some semblance of dignity. Or maybe he was just afraid of what Jack would do if he was too loud. Either way, Jack was going to break him.

“Rhys? Rhysie?” Oh, he liked the sound of that. Jack gave Rhysie’s nipple a good twist, the hand on the kid’s thigh moving to stroke along his shaft. “You got something you wanna say to me, huh, cupcake?” Jack brushed his thumb roughly against the tip. “Don’t ya?”

Rhys practically bucked into Jack’s hand, lips parting as he hissed out a breathy, broken ‘“fuuuuuck.” The CEO’s lips cracked into a grin, thumb rubbing harder, slower. “Now now, language, pumpkin,” he cooed, dipping forward so his tongue could graze along a stiff nipple.

Again, Rhys squirmed beneath him, but he held his tongue, hot air flaring from his nostrils as the fingers in Jack’s hair tightened to the point of pain. The burn from Rhys’s grip was invigorating, like lighting cracking down the back of his neck to the tail of his spine. Jack groaned as another surge of pleasure pooled in his gut and a dreamy wave of high rocked his brain. Without thinking he sunk his teeth into the warmth around his tongue, right hand tightening around the heat pulsing against his palm.

“Ahh!”

Rhys’s hoarse yelp crackled against Jack’s ears, the kid’s hips shuddering violently as a desperate hand tugged at his hair. Jack growled when his teeth were pried from their prey, eyes glaring daggers up at Rhys. _Excuse granted_. It was then Jack felt the warm, thick liquid trickling from his lower lip, a metallic taste dancing along his tongue. He blinked, eyes trailing over a marred, bloody nipple.

Oh _._

Rhys’s body quivered under Jack’s gaze, sending a thin flow of crimson trickling down his chest. Jack’s lips split into a wicked grin.

_Oh._

“ _Well,_ ” Jack sung sweetly, a low chuckle rising from that back of his throat. He pumped Rhys lazily as his free fingers smeared the blood across the kid’s chest, the liquid hot and sticky against his palm. “The color suits you.” He blinked up at Rhys and flashed him his crimson stained teeth. “Don’t ya think?”

Rhys didn’t respond to the question, choosing instead to melt over the hot pleasure Jack’s hand was most certainly granting him. Honestly, Jack couldn't blame him. He found his own breath thickening at the sight, his bloody hand slinking from Rhys’s chest to palm himself through his jeans. Patient, yeah, he’d been patient. Besides, it looked like he wasn't gonna get much more out of the kid. Not unless he brought out the big guns.

Somehow, Rhys must have read his mind, because suddenly there were clumsy fingers at his chest, determined to remove something, _anything_ from Jack’s body. The desperation was contagious, Jack’s hand fumbling with his belt buckle as Rhys ripped open his vest with a vicious _pop._ Jack shoved his hand into his jeans with a throaty groan, his body rocking from an intense shot of pleasure that pooled in his gut. _Fuck, since when was he so sensitive?_

Sucking in a breath, Jack snaked himself out from his pants, blinking at the sight. You see, Jack always prided himself in being pretty fucking endowed. He rocked a solid seven inches, maybe eight if he was feeling _extra_ frisky. But this? _Had_ to be nine. Jack pumped himself experimentally, shuddering as his breath hitched and body dipped forward. _Okay, super fucking sensitive_.

Rhys remained occupied with fussing with his boss’s clothes, desperate fingers tugging the fabric over Jack’s broad shoulders. Jack growled as he smacked the hands away, shimmying out of the layers himself before tossing them to the floor. Much to Jack’s surprise, the blow did next to nothing in calming the kid’s rashness. In fact, quite the opposite.

Rhys’s soft hand slipped under Jack’s sweater in an instant. The hand trailed higher and higher up his chest, slick, bloodied fingers teasing through his hairs. Jack shuddered from the touch, guiltily pleasuring himself with small strokes as his eyes fluttered shut. Damn, was the kid good with his hands.

The bliss was broken by a tight twist of Jack’s nipple. A sharp hiss escaped the CEO and he bristled, a mixture of rage and pleasure pooling in his gut. He glared up at Rhys, lips curling into a sneer at the sloppy, smug expression smeared across his face. If the kid thought he could turn the tables on Handsome Jack, well, he was dead fuckin’ _wrong_.

Jack lunged for Rhys’s thighs, gripping hard enough to practically _feel_ the bruises forming. He tugged hard, Rhys’s hand whipping out from under Jack’s shirt to grip the armrest as his body slipped forward in the seat. The CEO grinned, finding his new found physical leverage much to his liking.

“You see,” Jack’s left hand rose to smack against Rhys’s shoulder, the company man flinching from the touch. _That’s what he liked to see_. Jack’s hips shifted forward, head dipping so his lips could brush past his employee’s ear. “This is where you belong, Rhysie.” The kid shuddered beneath him as the underside of their dicks touched, Jack’s right hand slinking from Rhys’s thigh to grip them both. He ran a thumb over their heads and Rhys’s hips bucked into Jack’s, a high pitched whine sputtering past his lips. “Right here,” Jack breathed, his exhale hot and sticky against Rhys’s neck. He teased him once more. “Right under my thumb.”

Jack started slow, because _god_ was the sensitivity driving him wild. Each stroke of his hand sent needles prickling across his skin, a hazy, thick warmth lacing around his stomach. He’d already put two and two together; the increased libio, sensitivity, _size_ . Fuck, what a drug. Jack groaned as he teased over their heads one more, revelling in the feeling of the body quivering beneath him. He was going to make _so_ much freakin’ money.

Jack’s  grip on Rhys’s shoulder was the only thing keeping the kid from bucking into him. So needy, so desperate, yearning for Jack to increase his pace, his pressure. This was exactly what Jack was waiting for. He brushed his lips against Rhys’s neck, tongue grazing lazily across skin before pressing into a hard, bruising suck. The sound of Rhys’s breath hitching was music to Jack’s ears, sharp, breathy curses tumbling from the company man’s lips.

“J-jack…” Rhys practically sobbed, left hand curling around the CEO’s  working wrist. “Please, I’m so close…”

Jack grinned into Rhys’s throat, chuckling lowly as he allowed the kid’s hand to guide his own. “You gonna come for me, princess?” The CEO ran his teeth against Rhys’s skin before dipping into a rough bite. The body beneath him shuddered violently, belting out a broken ‘yes!’ as the hand around his wrist skittered away to slink into Jack’s hair. Jack pulled away with Rhys’s meek grip, tongue running over his upper lip as he admired the bloody, blooming bruise on the kid’s neck. “Nuh uh,” he chided, eyes flitting to meet Rhys’s lidded gaze. “Not until I say so.”

Rhys groaned, thunking and his head thunked back against the chair in frustration. Slowly, but surely, Jack increased his pace, Rhys’s choked, heavy breathing a tell tale sign he was reaching the edge again. The kid’s hand untangled from Jack’s hair to grip the armrest, hooded eyes _pleading_ to be told the magic words. Jack grunted as his lips twisted into a sneer. “Not yet, pumpkin.”

“Jack, I-I can’t-” he groaned, his back arching off of the seat. Jack pinned him back down with a strong push to the shoulder, dipping forward to nip along his jaw.

“ _Hold it_ ,” he growled, teeth raking against the company man’s ear. Jack was feeling far too good to let the game end early. He groaned as Rhys’s head rubbed against his own in just the right way, clamping down on the kid’s lobe. “Hold it, or you’ll be _damn_ sorry you didn’t.”

Rhys went silent for a brief moment, as if he were holding in a breath or locking his lips with his teeth. That silence was suddenly broken when Rhys shuddered beneath Jack, choked, broken moans tumbling past his lips as something hot and sticky coated Jack’s fist and dick. Jack clicked his tongue, vigorously increasing his strokes as his hand snaked around Rhys’s throat.

“ _What_ did I say?” he grunted, struggling to keep up his pace as Rhys desperately tried to squirm out from under him. He attempted to sputter out incoherent excuses, but Jack cut him off with a firm squeeze against his windpipe. _God_ , was it difficult to find competent employees these days.

Jack lifted his head from Rhys’s ear to grin at the bloody trail he had left along the kid’s jaw. Rhys’s left hand curled around Jack’s wrist, fingers clawing, begging for air.  A guttural laugh escaped Jack at the sight, the sound morphing into a rasped groan as he bucked into his hand. Fuck, he was getting close.

Rhys’s flushed cheeks began to turn a bright shade of violet, his eyes lidding as his thrashing became more burdened and sluggish. Jack hadn’t planned on killing the kid, but goddammit, if that’s what it took for him to pop his cork then kill him he shall. Jack curled his nails against Rhys’s throat as he bucked one final time, his thoughts drowned out by the buzzing, rapidly growing pleasure that ran up his spine and shot back down to pool in his lower gut. Wracked by what was possibly the greatest orgasm _ever_ , Jack’s strength gave way, grip loosening as his body thumped against his employee’s. _What a fucking drug._

Rhys sputtered to life as he sucked in air, paying little to no attention to the limp CEO basking in his afterglow. Cool, so he hadn’t killed him. Jack chuckled, fingers ghosting across Rhys’s throat as he caught his breath. “Oh man,” he hummed, unable to contain the wide grin cracking along his features.

“I’m gonna make so much freakin’ money.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more Borderlands sin you can always find me at bearded-protagonist-enthusiast.tumblr.com
> 
> I won't beg, but boy do I need more people to gush over this game with.


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